Part 1: The Comparison Trap – Ego, Envy and the Illusion of Zero-Sum Success
What my colleague’s success taught me about ego, envy and the cost of comparison
The Day My Ego Took a Hit
I learned about the emotional cost of workplace comparison the hard way. In the early years of my career, I prided myself on being a rising star… until a new associate joined our team. Fresh from a rival firm, she arrived with her fancy Oxbridge degree and a lot of hype around her hire. Within weeks, partners were singing her praises on big deals. I, on the other hand, was congratulating her through gritted teeth, all the while feeling less accomplished in comparison.
My rational brain told me her success didn’t actually detract from mine. Yet every client she impressed, every compliment she received, landed like a blow to my fragile ego. I’m not proud to admit I mentally tallied her wins as if they were points on a scoreboard — a scoreboard where I was suddenly falling behind. Envy crept in, that mix of admiration and insecurity, the “why not me?” feeling. Psychologists define envy as “pain at another’s good fortune,” and that was exactly what hit me. It made no sense logically (success isn’t a zero-sum game), but in the moment, it sure felt like it.
Ego, Uncertainty and Irrational Envy
Why did a peer’s arrival shake me so badly? In part, it was ego. I’d tied my identity to being the standout on the team. A star needs a spotlight and suddenly, mine felt dimmer.
But there was something deeper and more universal at play. Social psychologists have long noted that we evaluate ourselves by comparing to those around us. In high-pressure firms, there aren’t many objective metrics of worth. Feedback is sporadic and usually delivered only when you’ve missed the mark. So we look sideways: How do I stack up against my colleague?
As Leon Festinger’s classic social comparison theory explains, when we’re uncertain about our abilities, we turn to peers to gauge ourselves. It’s a built-in measuring stick, and one that’s often warped.
I wasn’t comparing myself to an average colleague; I picked the star performer (also known as upward social comparison). And research shows upward comparisons often erode our self-regard. Watching her excel made me feel inferior. My inner monologue turned harsh: “She’s brilliant — what does that make me?” I started seeing her achievements as evidence of my shortcomings.
This is the irrational core of envy: someone else’s strengths somehow equate to our weaknesses. I even felt a flash of schadenfreude at her small missteps — an ugly reaction I’d never felt before. Envy isn’t fun. As the saying goes, it’s the one sin that punishes you for someone else’s merit.
The Zero-Sum Illusion
I also fell for what I now call the zero-sum illusion. Deep down, I believed success was a fixed pie. If she claimed a big slice, there’d be less left for me.
It wasn’t true. In a large firm, everyone can theoretically succeed. But in the heat of comparison, it felt true. Every accolade she earned, I interpreted as a lost opportunity for me.
This mindset quietly turned our careers into a contest (at least in my mind). My genuine friendliness became a quiet, internalised rivalry she likely never knew about. It was exhausting and disheartening to experience.
The Emotional Cost of Constant Comparison
That period was emotionally turbulent. I’d go from irrational envy to guilt for feeling that way. I knew she was deserving. My envy wasn’t really about her. It was about me.
Comparison had distorted my view of myself. Instead of appreciating my own progress or learning from her strengths, I was fixated on relative status. My self-worth rose and fell based on our informal “rank” (aka the fictional rank I had made up in my head).
One week I’d close a major M&A deal and feel on top of the world... until I’d hear she’d been assigned an even bigger one and I’d deflate again. It was a toxic rollercoaster for my psyche.
The most alarming part was how it eroded my joy at work. I actually enjoyed practicing law — at least I used to. But once I was in comparison mode, any pride in my work evaporated if someone else seemed ahead.
I could finish a 12-hour day having done excellent work, but all that mattered was whether I’d outshone or been outshone. My achievements felt less like wins and more like defensive plays in an endless game of one-upmanship.
I remember sitting at home one night, obsessing over an upcoming performance review — not in terms of growth or feedback, but whether I’d be rated above or below her. I’d lost the plot. My ambition had quietly shifted from doing well to simply not coming second.
The Trap We Don’t See Until We’re In It
Looking back, I realise comparison culture was warping my mindset. It wasn’t just me being hard on myself; it was a symptom of the environment I was in and my own susceptibilities.
I tell this story because it shows the significant emotional toll of treating success as a relative concept. My confidence wavered. Anxiety spiked. I became less collegial.
It’s ironic and sad: the more I compared, the worse I felt — and the worse I performed — which only led to more comparison. I was caught in a zero-sum ego trap of my own making.
Reflections & Where We Go From Here
This personal saga taught me viscerally that workplace comparison has a cost: to our self-esteem, our relationships and our sanity. And I eventually learned that I was far from alone in this experience. In fact, modern professional culture often feeds this comparison trap (sometimes by design).
In Part 2, we’ll step back and explore how competitive workplaces institutionalise comparison and what that does to people over time.
But for now, take a breath. If you’ve ever felt like I did, know this: it’s not weakness. It’s not failure. It’s just... a human response.
The key is recognising it. And then figuring out what to do about it.
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